Chapter 6 I Do My Best to Kill Benny #2
“Hey.” I shook his hand—or rather, my hand disappeared in his enormous, calloused grip. “Katie.”
“Welcome to the forge.” Then he frowned, as if he’d just remembered something. “Any news about your cabinmate?”
He meant Grant. Apparently, he didn’t quite buy Clarisse’s theory that Grant had run back home to play video games.
That made me feel a little more hopeful. But I couldn’t tell a counselor I’d just met the whole truth about our run through the Wild Zone, so I simply shrugged. “Nothing yet. I wish he was here, but what can you do?”
“Hmm.” Beckendorf stepped to one side so I could watch the other campers at work. “Well, we’re making arrowheads today if you want to watch for a bit and then jump in.”
I smiled politely. “Actually, I was kind of hoping to make my own thing.”
Beckendorf spread his arms wide. “Great! What’d you have in mind?”
“Oh…” I realized I hadn’t thought this through. “Not sure,” I said. “I want a big weapon. Like, with a handle as tall as you are, maybe? And a blade maybe as long as your arm-span?”
Beckendorf chuckled. “So, the dimensions are one Beckendorf by one Beckendorf? That’s going to make for an unwieldy weapon for someone your size. No offense.”
“Ha-ha.” I hoped my eye wasn’t twitching as much as it felt like it was. “Yeah, but you know, I’m an Ares kid. God-level strength, and all that.”
I flexed both arms. I don’t know why. The gods never do that.
Beckendorf’s forehead wrinkled. He grabbed a notepad and a piece of charcoal. “Can you draw it?”
“I’ll try….” I took the pad and charcoal and sketched a long pole with a curved blade extending from the top at a ninety-degree angle.
Beckendorf’s frown deepened. “That’s a scythe. Why would you want a scythe?”
As soon as I tried to speak, I choked up. My eyes welled with tears. I hadn’t planned to break down in front of a complete stranger, but it had been a long few days.
The next thing I knew, I was sitting on a bench in one corner of the forge, sipping cold water from a canteen and dabbing my eyes with Beckendorf’s handkerchief. He sat next to me patiently while I tried to pull myself back together.
“Take your time,” he said.
Why did he have to be so nice? He reminded me of Grant, which made me sad all over again. I steadied my breathing, trying to decide how much to share.
“It’s just…I only got here yesterday. And it was kind of a rough journey.”
Beckendorf didn’t ask for details, but he seemed to get the general idea. I suspected he’d heard many a tragic tale from newly arrived campers.
“I’m so sorry, Katie,” he said. “A lot of us here can relate.”
“Grant and Silas, my satyr—they got me through. But now Grant is gone, and…”
“You’re feeling vulnerable,” he guessed. “You want the biggest weapon you can get.”
He didn’t say it with any judgment. He was just trying to understand.
“Everyone always underestimates me,” I said. “I want to prove them wrong.”
Beckendorf grunted. “I get that.”
I didn’t see how anyone could underestimate Beckendorf—the dude was huge. But he sounded sincere.
He flexed his fingers, like he was imagining what tool he should pick up next. “I didn’t mean to pry, Katie. It’s just that the scythe…it’s not a popular weapon here. It’s a symbol of the Titans…of Kronos.”
The fires seemed to gutter in the furnaces when he said that name. I shivered, sipping from my canteen.
Beckendorf must have read my desolate expression. “Hey, you want a scythe, I’ll help you forge the blade.”
I wiped my nose with the handkerchief before remembering that it wasn’t mine. “Really? Could it be Celestial bronze?”
“That’s a pretty rare ore. Hard to work with. But we can try.”
“I don’t mind a challenge.”
“All right, then.” He rubbed his palms together. “Let’s figure out some more precise dimensions.”
“You mean ‘one Beckendorf’ isn’t a good unit of measurement?” I asked.
Beckendorf smirked and pulled a tape measure from his tool belt. “You joke, but the ancient Greeks did use to measure things by the lengths of their hands and feet.” He pointed to his finger. “Daktylos.” He pointed to his hand. “Palaiste.” He wiggled his booted foot. “Pous.”
I knew all that, because I knew ancient Greek, but I gave him a wide-eyed look of wonder. “Everyone’s hands and feet are different lengths, though.”
He extended the tape measure. “That’s why I said use to.”
With Beckendorf’s help, I worked out measurements for my scythe.
“Okay!” he said. “Next time, we can start your first round of smelting.”
“Next time?” I repeated.
Then I looked around and realized all the other campers had packed up their stuff. I’d monopolized Beckendorf right until the end of class.
“But…how long is this going to take?” I asked, at the risk of sounding ungrateful.
Beckendorf shrugged. “A couple weeks, maybe? We’re melting metal and then reshaping it with a hammer over and over to create the perfect blade. It’s a process.”
I chewed my lip but nodded. “All right.”
“If you want to start practicing with the weapon, there might be an old scythe in the armory.”
“Thanks,” I said with a forced smile. “I’ll take a look later.”
I left Beckendorf to close up his forge and wandered across camp.
My schedule was my own until lunch, but at that moment, I didn’t really feel like starting anything new. I was shaking from my talk with Beckendorf. I hadn’t realized how much fear and worry I’d been keeping inside.
I strolled toward the pegasus stables, where it looked like someone was getting their first lesson on a winged horse.
Two guys on the ground held ropes attached to the pegasus’s bridle, while the animal flew in circles about ten feet over their heads.
And in the saddle, clinging to the horse’s neck for dear life, was a kid who looked very familiar.
“Hey, Benny!” I waved.
He glanced over, instinctively raised his hand to wave back, and promptly fell off his mount. He hit the ground so hard I could feel it in my teeth.
“No, no, no, no!” I ran toward him. The last thing I needed today was to cause the death of a fellow kitchen patroller.
When I reached him, though, he was already sitting up, brushing the hay off his jeans. The pegasus landed with an indignant snort. The two boys who’d been holding its reins were crouched next to Benny, examining him for injuries.
“I’m fine.” Benny smiled up at me ruefully. “That’s what I get for my Midwestern upbringing. When someone waves, we always wave back.”
One of the other boys frowned. “You’ve never waved at us….”
“Benny, I’m so sorry,” I said.
He managed a laugh. “All good. Help me up?”
I grabbed his hand and pulled. Fortunately, I’m pretty strong, because Benny was built like a stack of bricks. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t hurt himself falling.
One of the boys scrutinized him. “Well, I’m pretty certain you’re not a child of Poseidon.”